Pulling Back the Curtain
by queenofowls
Summary: "There is such thing as wearing armor too much, you know." But apparently, Dedue does not know. If he did, then Byleth wouldn't have had to take matters into her own hands. [Dedue/f!Byleth] Set after Flower Fields of Duscur.


Byleth knows that she should finish looking over these documents approving the formations for next month's march so that she can go to bed with a _little_ less to do tomorrow.

In the morning, it begins: the final day of the first tournament that Garreg Mach Monastery has held since the war's end. In more than six years, Garreg Mach's doors are open for such an event, knights across the continent invited to attend and bringing with them the promise of a Blue Lion House reunion, at least in part. Byleth hopes to, for all intents and purposes, watch the event in full-but first, these documents needed to be finished. If she can manage concentrate on them.

She tries again to do just that but, as with every other previous attempt, cannot seem to make it off of the page. Especially not since she finds that every other paragraph, her eyes stray over the paper in her hands to note her husband's broad shoulders standing at attention in the entryway.

It's not his fault.

Not really.

But earlier that week, at the training ground in preparation for the tournament...

"Wow, Dedue's really devoted to protecting you, huh, professor?"

The comment is not so strange coming from Annette, especially not since of the Blue Lion House, she is the most prone to gushing over her the "sheer romance of it all", as she put it at their wedding reception. Now that Byleth thinks on it, the only person _more_ enthusiastic than Annette is about their marriage to Dedue is Ashe.

Now and then, to her great amusement, he would pen a letter, bemoaning the fact that no historian has yet to put their relationship to ink and paper, if only so he could re-read the valiant romance of a mercenary-turned-archbishop and a blacksmith's son-turned-knight whenever he wished to. The thought both warms and amuses her, not for the first time, but she ignores the mental distraction to focus on the bright girl before her.

"He is," she allows, her curiosity peaked. "What makes you say so?" The young woman taps her lips with an ungloved hand, her grey eyes touching on the silent, stern man in full armor surveying the grounds.

"Well, everyone's doing drills, but..." She clenches both fists, her eyes practically sparkling. "Dedue's the only one not wearing training gear! It's amazing!" It takes Byleth all she can not to shade her eyes and squint in the face of such unbridled enthusiasm. She smiles instead. "Don't get me wrong, he still looks cool-but it's much too hot for that, don't you think?"

Byleth lets out a light _'hm'_ in reply, her eyes grazing the field of competing, practicing knights in mock battles. At the noise, Annette's eyes widen. "Professor, don't tell me you don't believe me? I-I mean, look at Ashe! He's a prime example!" Byleth doesn't tell her that that is not at all what her_ 'hm'_ meant-and more than that, she doesn't need to look to believe her. Unlike Dedue, almost every _other_ participant on the grounds seems to agree with Annette's sentiments, as can be witness by the bared legs, arms, midrifts and, on occasion, the entire concept of a shirt had been forsaken for bare skin.

If only not to disappoint Annette, Byleth does look at the knight as he pulls back on the weighty bow string with deceptive ease, the light linen tunic he wears revealing just how misleading his slender frame is. Without the bulk of layers to conceal him, she can see that his sinewy build is not at all skin and bones, but rather the physique of a man whose body has apparently decided that it has very little need for fat, evident from the taut freckled skin uncovered by the tunic's open neck and armless sleeves.

She sighs wistfully. _It would be lovely, actually, if her husband were also in an open-necked tunic without sleeves._

As soon as she thinks it, it's almost as though Annette reads her mind.

"Cheer up, professor! I'm sure you have lots of opportunities to see Dedue in casual clothes, right?" Byleth blinks at the thought. One _would_ think so, but actually...

Behind them, Mercedes' voice chimes pleasantly in the space of Byleth's hesitation.

"Professor, Annette. I've brought you two some water. This kind of weather is just ripe for dizzy spells so you can't forget to stay hydrated! I wouldn't want to have to patch you up on _and_ off the battlefield." They both accept Mercedes' offer gratefully, Byleth quietly glad for a reason not to continue speaking. She casts a concerned glance towards Dedue and is relieved to see that Mercedes has already stopped to attend to him first, a glass bottle in his hand. She watches him drink thirstily, her eyes trailing down his neck to watch his throat bob hypnotically. Water from the bottle escapes, trickling from his lips, down his chin and neck before disappearing into his armor.

_Goddess, she's thirsty._

Mercedes looks between Annette and the former professor curiously. "Now, what were you two talking about? I'd love to join in!" She follows Byleth's line of vision before she can look away and smiles.

"Oh, _I_ see."

Annette giggles. "_I_ was just telling the professor that despite the weather, Dedue looks cool in his armor! But... I don't think the professor agrees." Byleth can feel the embarrassment threatening to taint her cheeks with pink and give her away. Instead of dwelling on it, Byleth fills her mouth with cool water as Mercedes looks at Dedue thoughtfully, watching as he finishes the bottle and hands it to a passing squire for cleaning and re-use.

"But professor, don't you get to see him casual clothes all of the time?"

Annette gasps. "Right! That's exactly what I was thinking!"

_'Not nearly enough,'_ Byleth thinks. Instead, she issues a single word reply. "No."

_"No?"_ Mercedes echoes her in soft surprise.

"No."

**"No?!"** Annette does the same in... less soft surprise. In the company of the two girls, Byleth can't help but feel her mood lift for a brief moment. She confirms it again patiently.

"**No.** Because," she begins truthfully and not without some reluctance, "as acting captain of the Knights of Seiros, he wears full armor in the monastery at all times." Annette and Mercedes exchange looks. Mercedes opens her mouth delicately, but Annette beats her to the punch.

"Ouch. That _sucks_, professor."

"Annette!"

"I mean, Mercy, I know it sounds kind of blunt and I'm sorry for saying so but... I mean, it really _does_ suck. He... he can't wear armor all the time." Her eyelids flutter as she slicks her hair behind both ears, lowering her voice. "What about when you're in bed? S-sleeping, of course! I guess you wouldn't really need clothes for..." Annette trails off, the slightest tint on her cheeks. Byleth stares down at the water cupped in her hands and for a moment, wishes it was something a lot stronger.

_Hm._

Maybe she's turning into her father.

Dedue wouldn't be bothered if she revealed just this to them, right? _...Actually, probably a little._ She answers anyway. "Sometimes he sleeps without a shirt but..." Byleth trails off. Mercedes slaps her fist into the open palm of her other hand.

"Oh! I get it! It's a bit like when you wear small clothes made of lace for special occasions!" The woman's kind expression transforms as she closes one of her eyes into a wink. "Sometimes it's not what you _can_ see, but what you can't that makes it special, right?" Byleth doesn't reply, attracting a wide-eyed glance from Annette.

"Professor? Do you, um, need some more water? You look a bit... warm."

"I _am_ warm," Byleth answers dryly. "It's hot today." Mercedes gives her a knowing look, but Byleth refuses to return it. To imagine, flustered by her own former students... she gulps down another glass as the older woman chuckles, not unkindly.

"Oh, Professor. That's an easy fix. Just burn all of his clothes and gift him new ones!" Both Byleth and Annette stare at her as the tall woman lets out another airy laugh, the tone that of one who loves to evoke a reaction from others. "I'm just _kidding_. But I do think you should gift Dedue something you'd like him to wear. You could get him something tailored! I'm sure he would look very nice, professor."

The words had haunted her throughout the week.

_Something she'd like for him to wear..._

A _something_ that she's stowed in the top left drawer of their shared dresser. She places the file stack on the table. _This will have to wait until morning._ At this rate, she'll have to miss the morning session of the tournament, but at least she'll be awake for the portion she _can_ catch if she goes to bed at this very moment. She calls out to Dedue.

"Dedue, you can come in. I'm almost finished for the night." He turns towards her with a nod.

Right away, she can see the transformation as he relaxes his stiff shoulders and goes into the hall to dismiss the knight standing there as well.

Taking a moment to extinguish the light illuminating the hall, Dedue shuts the door and locks it behind him. Then, he joins her at the small table, his weight creaking the chair as he settles into the seat across from hers. He has been standing all day, so he takes a moment to shut his eyes and rest his weary feet, the only sound from him that of his armor shifting against the chair. A few minutes pass.

"What are you working on?"

She wonders how to answer. After all, staring blankly at the pages, sneaking lingering glances at him all the while hardly counts. She folds away the stack of documents and stands.

"Nothing," she admits. "I was remarkably distracted." Dedue sits up, opens his eyes. There is no playfulness in his gaze as he speaks, underlying steel in his voice.

"Is everything alright?" She smiles at his intensity, placing a hand on his armored forearm. The feeling of the metal under her hands makes her frown.

"Yes." She can tell her frown confuses him, but she clears her throat and stands. "Let's get you out of that armor, then." He stares at her, his eyes roaming her face for a reaction, but Byleth looks at him steadily, knowing he can't read her whenever she makes this particular face. She can tell he's contemplating whether he'll challenge her assurance that it's nothing.

Pressing his lips together, Dedue stands with some reluctance. Byleth tries not to feel guilty. _He'll know soon enough_, she tells herself. Just as soon as she gets the confidence to tell him what's in the drawer.

As if she is unwrapping a gift, Byleth undoes the familiar buckles strapping the armor coating his body and peels them away with barely concealed enthusiasm. The real treat is never the metal casing, but rather the cloth layer beneath that she enjoys removing most. The heat of the day has left his skin glossy with sweat. The smell isn't her favorite, but she can endure it for the sight alone. He hadn't been on active duty, so she doesn't have an excuse to... check his body for bruises. She's tempted to do it anyway, wishing for a moment that he'd set foot on the training grounds for even a moment.

_Ah, well._ Maybe next time. She still likes to pretend that her insistence on removing his armor has some legitimacy.

Sometimes Byleth wonders if he's caught on, but if he has, he makes no indication. Whenever she removes his armor... there are times when his eyes shut wearily, waiting if only so they can collapse into sleep shortly after. There are the times when his eyes touch on different things around the room while they talk in quiet, affectionate tones. And then...

And then there are times like now, where she can feel him watching her through hooded eyelids, holding his breath. Byleth wonders, not for the first time, what he is thinking when he looks at her this way, but the fact that he makes no indication to speak makes her think that perhaps he is not yet ready to express such thoughts.

His poleyns are the only thing she has left to remove. Silently, he sits back down at her small work table so she can remove the armor protecting his knees and legs. It's quick work, and Byleth grimaces as she sets the armor aside. As much as she loves him, it's clear that the hot day has left its imprint behind. In other words, Dedue has been standing under a hot sun all day in metal casing, and he smells of it. If not for that, she would press herself into his lap and taste the salt on his neck.

_Alas._

Dedue strokes her hair lightly both in thanks and in apology, well aware of what her expression means. "You said you were almost finished with work. Why don't you wrap up what you were trying to finish? I'll go bathe in the meantime." She nods, standing to her feet as she watches him strip the cloth padding layers off and toss them into the corner of their room. He changes into something more fitting for walking the monastery grounds at night, slipping his arms through the thick sleeve of a comfortable robe before stopping to retrieve his bucket, soap, and cloth.

He _looks_ ready for his bath, but strangely, he hesitates by the door.

"Byleth?" She looks at him expectantly. "Have you yet bathed?" At the light inquiry, Byleth tilts her head at him, mildly confused. Of... course she had? And he knows it, too, because he stood right outside of the bathhouse on guard not even two hours ago.

"...Yes?" She answers it as a question because she really wants to know is how he could've possibly forgotten.

"Right, yes. Well. Would you like to bathe a sec..." He trails off as Byleth looks at him expectantly. "No, sorry. Ah..." Dedue reaches for the door handle and pulls the door-but before he can enter the hall, Dedue shuts it again, turning towards her. "Tomorrow... I'd like to assign Alois as your protection detail during your bath time." She stares at him in alarm. Not that there is something wrong with Alois, but... she has always felt safer knowing Dedue is on the other side of the bath house door. She cannot imagine Dedue haphazardly abandoning a job he has always taken very seriously and to be frank, that worries her.

Is he feeling too ill to do it himself?

"Dedue, are you... alright?" She asks the question in absolute bewilderment, taking quick steps towards him. Instead of replying, Dedue shifts the wooden tub to his other arm, rubbing his neck with his free hand.

"I just thought..." His voice is slightly awkward yet carefully neutral, "tomorrow evening, you might like some company?"

_Tomorrow evening? What is happening to..._ She doesn't finish the thought, her eyes widening as it clicks together, what he is requesting. "Dedue, are you..." Byleth tries again to ask the question calmly, but the fluttering in her stomach is anything but. "You wish to bathe with me?"

"I do, yes." He waits for her reply. She gives it, her only hesitance fed by her surprise.

"'I... I see. Then... until tomorrow." Her imagination cannot even take hold of the images she is about to be privy to. "I look forward to it."

"Good." Dedue stares at her, his expression soft as he echoes the quiet declaration. "Until tomorrow, then." He departs with a bare, fleeting smile. When the door shuts behind him, Byleth is left with the singular thought that she... she cannot _wait_.

She should've just taken a second bath with him.

It occurs to her that since they returned from Duscur, Dedue is just a bit different. He is still not good at articulating what he wants from her _all_ of the time, but some of the time... Her mind flashes to the recent sight of him standing in the doorway and considers how much it must've taken for him to make the request. He is trying, at least, to be more open.

She should take a page from his book, honestly... Byleth takes a deep breath and, glancing around herself, pulls open the dresser drawer where she's carefully placed them. There they lie, the clothes she's purchased for Dedue. It's nothing extravagant, but...

Byleth thinks on Mercedes' words.

_"It's a bit like when you wear small clothes made of lace for special occasions! Sometimes it's not what you _can_ see, but what you can't that makes it special, right?" _

If Dedue could make his own indulgent requests, then...

She steels herself and folds the brand new garments into neat squares, forcing herself to leave them on the small bench behind the changing screen in the corner of their room.

_Okay._

Looking back to her work table, Byleth feels strangely... light. Not only that, but a solution for a work problem comes to mind. _Instead of approving the current formation documents, if she could tweak it just a bit..._

When Dedue returns to the room, his loose silvery hair dripping onto their floor, he finds to his mild surprise, his wife still in her Archbishop's robes, bent over the map as she puzzles over the small wooden units. He can hear her muttering quietly.

"Wyverns here...? No... because if they have archers on the ramparts, then..." He smiles and puts away the bath supplies to sit on their bed with a towel. "You aren't ready for bed?"

"Not yet," she replies distractedly. "But..." She pauses, then straightens to look at him. "Before you change for bed, would you mind..." Dedue waits curiously but she changes both her mind and the phrasing of her sentence. "I got something for you. I'd like you to see how you like it."

"Something?"

"Clothes." She doesn't say more, and he can't tell if it's because she's working or because she's trying to avoid speaking. _Hm..._ She has never purchased him something clothing for him before.

"Where are they?"

She waves a hand towards the changing screen in answer.

Dedue treks dutifully across the room and notes the folded pile. A plain white shirt, belt, trousers, and new pair of boots await him. Fairly... normal, actually. He shrugs, wondering at her hesitance as he removes the robe to change.

It isn't long before Byleth's ear perk up to catch the quiet sound of Dedue muttering in quiet, frustrated tone before letting out a sigh. She manages to catch a sentence, her eyelids fluttering rapidly at his words. "I'll need my glasses if I wish to repair this."

"What is it?"

"Nothing." His reply is quick. He appreciates the gift and does not wish for her to think there is a problem, after all... But then, Dedue frowns, even though he is aware that she cannot see the expression. Then again, perhaps he ought to be honest. "Everything fits well, except... this shirt you purchased. Not to say that it does not meet the measurements of my arms very well but it seems to be... incomplete. " There is a pause before Byleth replies, her voice strangely still.

"May I see?" He shrugs and walks from behind the screen. His hands attempt to pinch the top of the shirt shut, but as she is aware, it does not stretch in that direction. "Relax." He does with some reluctance, the lapels falling open to reveal some of the slight scarring on his chest.

Her eyes are on Dedue, taking him in like the feast he truly is in her eyes. Thank _Sothis_ she had listened to Mercedes' well thought-out suggestion about the tailor. The fabric of his pants ghosts perfectly with the curved silhouette of his body, conforming just enough to fit his muscular thighs without making him look as though he is stuffed into the trousers. His form is accentuated _very_ well, down to the tightly muscled, generous rear that is usually covered by metal plates of armor meant to protect his backside. She appreciates their protection, but will never admit to anyone but herself that sometimes she thinks that the armor is there mostly to deprive her of the chance to sneak a glance at his behind whenever he passes her by in the monastery.

Dedue is not ignorant of the obvious tension behind her gaze. How could he be, when her eyes roam his body in such a deliberate way that he cannot help but feel self-conscious? Before he can comment on it, Byleth turns back to the map spread across the table, her voice deceptively unaffected. "I don't know what you mean. It fits _perfectly_."

Dedue cannot help himself. Even if she _is_ enjoying the view, he cannot help but gesture at his torso, absolutely perplexed that she is not seeing the problem side as he is. "This shirt can barely close. And more than that, there are no buttons past the abdomen, Byleth." He cups his chin in his hand thoughtfully. "I would think they'd fallen off, except there are no holes to connect them either."

"That, Dedue, is a feature, not a flaw." She doesn't look up, instead tracing a line with her finger from Garreg Mach to Enbarr. He crosses the room to take a look at what she is planning, standing slightly beside her to see if he can discern whatever plan she is puzzling out. _Is this for next month's march, then?_

"What do you mean a feature?" His voice is directly by her ear, a droplet of water from his wet hair dripping onto her shoulder. She winces at the cold surprise and cannot help but turn her eyes towards him. The sound alone isn't the only thing near to her, the proximity of his bare skin closer still.

"I..." she swallows, fighting her eyes to keep them on his face. "I purchased it this way. Intentionally." Dedue looks at her, his brows knitting together in a puzzled expression.

"I know that sometimes I feel warm," he begins slowly, "but I do not quite think this is a suitable solution."

"Good. It is not the problem I was trying to solve." _Problem?_ In what way is she possibly dissatisfied with him? He tries to think. She said nothing during breakfast, or during this week's ongoing tournament, and... true, last night, they had both worked late into the night without saying much, but... his puzzlement only worsens.

"What problem, then, is there? Perhaps I can help if I understand it?" Byleth's eyes flicker towards him before she puts down a miniature brawler unit that is currently doing no good clenched in her hand so tightly. Closing the already minimal space between herself and Dedue, she smoothes her hands up his shoulders and wraps her arms loosely around his neck.

"You," she murmurs, "wear far too much armor."

His hands fall to her hips, his eyebrows furrowing together. "It is to be ready to protect you at all times."

"How very practical of you." Her eyelids flutter shut in an obvious sign, so he bends to close the space between them, still unsure of what she is asking of him, if anything. He cups her cheek lightly and perhaps expects a similar level of chasteness.

Instead, he feels her fingers tickling against the edge of the shirt's opening before dipping inside, her fingers prodding in a way he finds almost impolite in their exploration. He suddenly chuckles into her mouth, his only voice half-surprised.

"Is this why it is a feature?" She breaks the kiss to answer his question breathlessly.

"Absolutely." Reaching up, Byleth strokes her fingers from the hollow of his neck to where the open space stops, right above his abdominal muscles. "A flawed one at that. This opening should go lower." Dedue shakes his head at her, bemused.

"How pleasantly shameless of you." He stares down at her seriously, the almost frown on his lips betrayed by a blush dusted across his cheeks and ears. _And he thought asking to join her for a bath was difficult..._ He wonders where Byleth gets her boldness from. Perhaps he could learn from her. Clearing his throat, he pulls a hand of his from her hips to gesture at his shirt. "Would further testing of this feature please you, then?"

Undeterred by his serious expression, Byleth presses an open mouthed kiss to the peeping expanse of his still damp skin, a direct cause of a sharp intake of breath on his behalf. Her hand lightly strokes against the unpleasant blockade of fabric covering his tightly packed abdomen. She repeats herself. "Absolutely." Byleth pauses to look up at him and make an admission. "I bought this shirt in three colors for that very purpose. I hope that you will find the time to wear them."

"f you touch me like this each time I do," he says thoughtfully, "I am uncertain I will ever make it out of doors. Still, I will try." At his spoken thoughts, Byleth takes the opportunity to touch her tongue against his lips. _Less_ talking is what she hopes for, and she receives it, Dedue's hands lightly stroking her up and down her back.

A part of him thinks to protest. _She's working, isn't she? It's hardly right to..._

The thoughts of complaint continue, but he does not act on them... and when it is crystal clear that Byleth far beyond finished with words, Dedue tugs at her robes with the intention of removing them.

An idle thought pricks the corner of his consciousness. _Purchasing such clothes for him, only to take them off... _He wonders if that was her intention all along-but Byleth is already pulling him forward by the lapels towards a place where thoughts and words are unnecessary and skin rules as king.

* * *

**Phew, this one was self-indulgent, even for me. It incorporates some idle imaginings I ****had chatting with caffeinatedraindrop. ****If you didn't know, she's written two Bydue works, so be sure to check them out!**

**Dedue's outfit was inspired by a gorgeous illustration of Dedue in casual clothes made by Twitter user heyitsjaki at my request. It was, in essence a thirst-mobile. My thirst inspired her thirst which inspired my thirst again.**

**Anyone want to guess which of my fics this title references?**

**Every review is a drop from Dedue's glass water bottle down his throat! :'D**


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